Murder on Capitol Hill Read Free Page A

taking her in his arms, he added to himself, God bless ’em…
    Early the next morning, just before she showed him out, she extracted his promise to take her to Senator Caldwell’s testimonial party.
    Nodding unhappily, he kissed her, and said, “Well, they always told me everything has its price,” then escaped before she could beat him about the head and ears.
    Leaning against the closed door, she had to smile. It had been a very good night. With a good man. Life could be worse…
    ***
    The day of the big party proved out the truth of Lydia’s thought. It had been a long frustrating day at the office with a client who she almost felt like prosecuting instead of defending. A real hardhead who seemed determined to defeat himself… As she drove home she realized she’d barely have time to get ready before Clarence picked her up for the Caldwell party.
    She raced into the house, tossed off her clothes, showered, dried herself and went to one of two closets where she chose a sleek, butterscotch eveningdress that dipped at the bosom and was lower in the back. She applied lipstick only, pulled her hair back into a chignon and attached a single gold strand around her neck. The clock at her bedside said 6:15. Fifteen minutes.
Good Housekeeping
,
Esquire
and
Newsweek
had arrived in the mail and she scanned their covers. One of the blurbs on
Good Housekeeping
’s cover told readers that inside they could read an interview with “Washington’s First Lady of the Arts, Veronica Caldwell.”
    She was turning to the first page of the Caldwell interview as her door chimes sounded and she went to the door.
    “Hi, I was just about to read an interview with Veronica.”
    “Bring it with you,” he said. “Read it in the car. Then you’ll be loaded for knowledgeable chitchat.”
    “Oh, shut up,” she said, and smiled. But she did as he suggested and read the interview as Clarence drove them to the party.
    He found a parking space after circling the block twice, came around and opened the door for her.
    “By the way, you look lovely,” he said as they crossed the street and headed for the Senate Building.
    “Thank
you
, sir,” and she meant it. Loved it.
    “So what did the article have to say about Veronica?”
    “It talked about the center, her role as a senator’s wife and as a mother, her hopes for the future of the arts in America, you know, that sort of thing. The photographs are terrific.”
    “Terrific… Well, I hope we have better luck than the last time I went to a reception here… the hostwas drying out and a godawful nonalcoholic punch was served. I think it was a Kool-Aid base.”
    “I bet it was a short reception.”
    “Very short.”
    He stopped halfway up the steps, looked at her and repeated how well she looked. But in his head was the dream he’d had the previous night. Of course it was only a dream, but in it she’d died… They were at a party and all of a sudden it was a wake. He’d walked up to the coffin and there she was in a dress sort of like the one she was wearing now, a rose in her hands and a horribly tranquil expression on her face.
    He took her arm firmly and led her up the steps. What the hell, a bad dream was a bad dream… don’t impose it on Lydia, or take it seriously. He’d better stop snacking before bedtime…
    Lydia looked at him. “Is anything wrong, you look sort of strange.” She seemed to shiver beneath the white woolen shawl she wore over her shoulders, and Clarence felt it. Or was he the one?
    “No, don’t be silly, everything’s fine,” he said, “except it’s getting chilly.” He put his arm around her. “It’s the wind. We’ll be inside in a moment.”

4
    Charles was putting his final touches on preparations for the Caldwell reception, working closely with Veronica Caldwell through her representative Jason DeFlaunce. Under ordinary circumstances, Charles disliked dealing with Senate wives; they were too quick to invoke proxy power of their husbands. In